Blunt.
What is thy name, that thus in battle crossest me?
What honour dost thou seek upon my head?

Dowg.
Know then, my name is Dowglas,
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,
Because some tell me that thou art a King.

Blunt.
They tell thee true.

Dowg.
The lord of Stafford dear to day hath bought
Thy likeness; for instead of thee, King Harry,
This sword hath ended him; so shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.

Blunt.
I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot,
And thou shalt find a King that will revenge
Lord Stafford's death. Fight, Blunt is slain: then enter Hot-spur.

Hot.
O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumphed o'er a Scot.

Dowg.
All's done, all's won, here breathless lies the King.

Hot.
Where?

Dowg.
Here.

Hot.
This, Dowglas? no: I know his face full well:
A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the King himself.

Dowg.
Ah! fool go with thy soul, whither it goes!
A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a King?

Hot.
The King hath many marching in his coats.

Dowg.
Now by my sword, I will kill all his coats;
I'll murther all his wardrobe piece by piece,
Until I meet the King.

Hot.
Up and away,
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt.

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